


Differences

by allisonbucky



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Autism Spectrum, Disabled Character, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonbucky/pseuds/allisonbucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec Lightwood had always been a bit... different. There were just some things that didn't come to him naturally - social cues, teamwork... dealing with Clary Fairchild's nonsense. He has struggled with this sense of being different - 'robotic', 'emotionless', 'apathetic' as his siblings often reminded him - his whole life. </p><p>What if there was a reason for this?</p><p>Or, Alec Lightwood is canon autistic, in a world that shuns anything that could hinder being the perfect soldier. The untold exploration of his discovery of this, and how finding out changes his life for the better. </p><p>Vaguely following canon, minus lots of key plot points, lol. absolutely Malec with parabatai feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABLEIST LANGUAGE.  
> This fic is largely an exploration of how incredibly coded autistic Alec appears (mainly in the shadowhunters TV series but elements of the books too.)  
> I am not autistic but I am neurodivergent - ADHD - and didnt discover this until very recently. a lot of this is my own experience of how not knowing you have a learning difficulty can seriously hinder your life, and also the ableism and stigma that surrounds neurodiversity. if i portray anything about alec wrong wrt autism/ASD please let me know. I massively identify with a lot of alec's qualities and his character means a lot to me lol.  
> I doubt the rating will go up but I will say if it does!!  
> \---  
> this chapter is from the POV of other characters than alec largely because i didn't know how to start it, but It will mainly be centred on alec. he has his own agency.

“Jace? Can I… ask you about Alec?” Clary asked tentatively, aware of Jace’s intense aversion of discussing his parabatai. As expected, Jace narrowed his eyes slightly, but he nodded. The two were casually sitting on Clary’s bedroom, talking quietly despite the silencing rune on the door. It had become a nightly practice for the two: Jace would sneak into Clary’s bedroom some time after midnight, and they would just… talk. Clary wanted to know everything about this new world, and everything about Jace. But Jace always avoided talking about Alec. It frustrated Clary, knowing how big a part of Jace’s life he was. She knew they were parabatai, she knew it was a bond closer than she could really comprehend.

“You… you talk to him differently than you do to everyone else,” she begun. Jace looked vaguely confused, cocking his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you’re pretty sarcastic, crack jokes, but with Alec… it’s like you’re always being like, incredibly sincere. I don’t really get it.”

 Jace looked to his lap. He took a pause. He didn’t know how to answer, how to explain the enigma of his adoptive brother. He looked back at Clary, an intensely caring look on his face that made Clary smile. She loved how protective Jace was of Alec. Even though Alec seemed to hate her, she knew there was something deeper. That he was a good person, but he often just seemed a bit _off_ to Clary.

 “It’s hard to explain. I mean, Alec, he can be hilarious, when you get to know him. He just… he’s funny in different ways? I don’t know, but I know that its easier for him if I’m sincere with him. Just, he’s so different now than when we were kids, he kind of acts like everyone else now, I guess-” he was interrupted by Clary snorting. She looked at him incredulously.

“What?”

 “Come _on_ Jace. I know you love him, I do, but he’s so rude to me, to Simon… basically to anyone who isn’t you or Izzy-” she stopped, seeing anger rising on Jace’s face.

“Okay, he’s not _rude_ , he’s just… blunt? Alec… he believes everything so strongly. Its really hard for him to not follow the rules, for… I guess for his routines to change. He’s not just being a pain in your ass, Clary – this isn’t your fault, but everything that’s happened… it’s knocked him sideways. It’s just… some things are hard for Alec. When we were kids he barely spoke, he would train for hours and hours. Believe it or not, I had to make him study his runes.” Jace smiled at Clary, who was filing this stilted information about the mysterious shadowhunter away in her brain. She raised her eyebrows at this last comment. She found it incredibly hard to imagine _Jace_ making Alec study.

 At this description, her mind subconsciously pulled comparisons to when she interned as an arts councillor at a special needs school during her senior year of high school. The kids she had worked with were so smart, so focused in their own way. She thought of one of the kids, a boy with autism around age nine. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at her, and spent all his time just twirling the paintbrush around his hands, brushing the soft bristles on the skin of his forearms. Clary got some hypoallergenic face paints for him, and got him to draw on his skin. His little face had lit up, and he started doodling beautiful, coordinated patterns all over his arms. She knew he was just as creative as any other kid, he just expressed it in a different way.

 She thought of Alec, counting and arranging his arrows after every mission, making sure they were all runed perfectly. He took so much care over his weapon of choice. She knew he felt alone in battle without his bow and arrow, despite being so proficient with seraph blades.

 She didn’t know exactly what to do with this information.

* * *

 

“Izzy? What… happens to disabled shadowhunters?” Clary asked casually one afternoon as the two sat in the kitchen, drinking bright purple tea that was better than any herbal tea Clary had sampled in even the most hipster cafés in Brooklyn. Izzy looked slightly confused.

 “Like, if they get injured in battle? I mean they usually do more administrative work-” Clary was frustrated, not knowing how to ask what she wanted to ask.

 “No, I mean… if a shadowhunter kid was born – without an arm, or couldn’t hear, or – or had down syndrome?”

 At this Izzy looked confused, as if she had never thought of this before.

 “Down syndrome? You mean the mundane chromosome disorder? That doesn’t happen to shadowhunters. Our angel blood fights off genetic imperfections,” she said confidently. Clary screwed up her face, shocked at this language from Izzy.

 “No, it’s not – they’re just different, they’re not, not worse-” she knew it was useless explaining this to Izzy. Shadowhunters had been raised as warriors, soldiers – of course they didn’t understand neurodiversity.

“I know a few years ago, my parents’ friends had a kid, a little girl – she looked completely normal, but when she got to about four, and still wasn’t speaking, couldn’t follow any instructions, was, I don’t know – she was different. She didn’t act like other kids. She drooled when she ate, ran around in circles, didn’t look at people-” Izzy stopped, looked down.

“What happened to her?” Clary asked, almost scared to know the answer.

“The clave, they knew she would never be a shadowhunter. Her angelic abilities were blocked by the silent brothers, and she was sent to live in a mundane orphanage.”

Clary almost dropped her tea. That was… medieval. She felt absolute rage bubbling in her veins.

 “That’s _disgusting_. How could they… she was just different!” Clary exclaimed, feeling frustrated tears rush to her eyes.

Izzy smiled at Clary sympathetically, putting a gentle hand on her knee.

 “Clary, we’re _shadowhunters._ The chosen people. We protect mundanes. We can’t have – people whose brains don’t work right, they can’t be part of this community. Its just the way it is here.”

 Clary shook her head, seething. The shadowhunter community, the clave… they just seemed so backwards, so wrong in some aspects. Everything was black and white in this world. Clary almost couldn’t even speak. How can supposed protectors of the world turn their back on their own children for being different? 

* * *

 

_“Robert, there’s something wrong with our son,” Maryse insisted, tears coming to her eyes as the pair sat quietly, observing the toddler play with rune blocks – or, hold them, and turn them over and over and over again in his little hands. He had been sitting on the floor for hours, hadn’t made a sound. When Alexander was born, he barely cried. The Lightwood parents were incredibly proud, thinking their son was destined for great bravery, that emotion would never cloud his judgement._

_But he continued not to cry. He didn’t smile, laugh, gargle noises… he just stared up at his mother. Maryse didn’t know how she could look at her precious child, heart absolutely swelling with joy, but simultaneously be terrified every time he looked away from her._

_When Isabelle, beautiful, expressive, loud Isabelle was born just a few months ago, she and Robert saw the difference all the more._

_Alexander was nearing two and a half, and was yet to utter anything resembling a word. His baby sister would babble away, cry all night, and he would just cover his ears and toddle away to where he could play – if it could even be called playing – by himself._

_The young parents were at a loss. They knew if they alerted the clave doctors to his… differences… that something terrible could happen. They hadn’t discussed it, but they both knew the law in regards to these kinds of children._

_“I… remember last week when I didn’t come on the mission?” Robert asked his wife, rubbing the back of his neck. He had debated when to tell Maryse about his little personal mission._

_“I glamoured myself to look like a mundie, and went to one of their libraries. I did some research… the mundanes have hundreds of names for these kinds of disorders of the brain. I think… I think Alexander fits the profile, from what I can tell, of something called autism.” He pulled a worn out, folded up leaflet he’d been keeping on him from his jacket, that he’d read and re-read over and over again in secret over the week, and shakily handed it to his wife._

_Maryse silently read over the symptoms listed._

  * _Doesn’t make eye contact_
  * _Doesn't smile when smiled at_
  * _Doesn't respond to his or her name, or to the sound of a familiar voice_
  * _Doesn’t follow objects visually_
  * _Doesn't point or wave goodbye, or use other gestures to communicate_
  * _Doesn’t follow the gesture when you point things out_
  * _Doesn’t make noises to get your attention_
  * _Doesn’t initiate or respond to cuddling_
  * _Doesn’t imitate your movements and facial expressions_
  * _Doesn’t reach out to be picked up_
  * _Doesn’t play with other people or share interest and enjoyment_



_“They’re describing Alec,” she whispered. She looked at her son, then to her husband, eyes shining with tears. “Robert, this is every moment in the last two years with our baby. How… what do we do?” she started to sob, covering her mouth. She read the pamphlet twice over. She would fix this. They would fix this. This would not be their child’s life._

_“It’s ok, Maryse. We won’t tell anyone. We can do research, find ways to make him normal, find a mundane to help..._ _but this must stay a secret. We will fix this.”_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow,thank you for the response to the last chapter!! it really means a lot to get feedback <3  
> ok so events of the show will be completely out of order, i might borrow canon here and there... but this is largely an introspective fic at the moment, lol. i don't really have much mapped out but i promise magnus will come in soon!  
> more to come soon :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are some instances of self-harm type thoughts and behaviour, and also trigger warning for dermatillomania (skin picking disorder.)

Alec frowned, staring at Jace and the _girl_ embrace. He couldn’t understand what he saw in her. She was loud, messy, emotional, she _cried_ , seemed incapable of doing anything but tell bad anecdotes… she barely ever made sense to him, her choices were reckless and she knew nothing about this world. _Their_ world. His and Jace’s.

His frown deepened as he recognized that thought. He needed to stop this. There was no _him and Jace_ – there never would be. It was forbidden for parabatai to fall in love. Just having these thoughts was breaking the law, was dangerous.

Clary and Jace were still making out. Alec turned away, heading for his bedroom and shutting the door.

He locked the door, stripping off and immediately heading to his bathroom. Everything was too loud. He vaguely registered the sound of heels, and knocking – Izzy. Probably checking up on him… but he couldn’t deal with her right now. He needed to be alone.

Alec absentmindedly picked at his hands as he waited for the water to get to the right temperature, and sat down in the shower, focusing completely on the feeling of the water hitting him. It was almost too much, too intense, but it worked as an uncomfortable distraction. He winced when his fingernails dug slightly too deep at his palm, trying not to revel in the slight pain. His hands were a mess of scars. Everyone assumed that Alec’s scarred over hands were from battle, or calluses from sparring, but the truth was that he had this compulsion to just pick at his skin. Another thing that was beyond his control. Another way he was a disappointment.

Alec hated this feeling. When things… emotions… got too much. Too loud in his head. He didn’t want to think about Jace, or the institute, or the Law, or … or anything.

At the moment he was just done with it all.

Alec completely lost track of time as he stood under the water. He let his mind wander and completely focused on the feeling of the water hitting his skin. When he finally dragged his hand up to the knob and forced himself to get out of the shower, he discovered he had been in there for nearly forty minutes. He hadn’t even managed to wash his hair, he had just sat and let the water wash everything away. Guilty about his waste of water, Alec flinched as he dried himself off with the rough towel, and pulled on his favourite pyjamas – which were literally coming apart at the seams, didn’t smell too great and were at least three sizes too small by now – they were one of the only clothing items that didn’t drive him crazy, that he could just _be_ in. He didn’t care how much Izzy mocked him for wearing old, worn out clothes; there was nothing worse than that rough, scratchy feeling against his skin that was new clothing. It made him feel like every nerve ending was on fire. If people wanted to make fun of him for having raggedy and washed out clothes it didn’t really bother him.

He was just lying down when he heard knocking at his door again. He closed his eyes in annoyance, but murmured for whoever it was to come in, expecting Izzy.

It was Jace.

Jace came and sat beside him, and Alec looked steadily in front, not wanting to meet his parabatai’s eyes. He was suddenly aware that Jace was speaking to him.

“What?”

Jace shut his eyes.

“Alec. We need to talk. What is going on with you, man? You’ve been off with me for days.”

Alec sighed. He really, really didn’t want to talk right now. He was exhausted.

“Jace, I’m- fine. I’m just t- tired. I don’t know, it’s… go… go somewhere else. I'm going to sleep,” he said, every word feeling like a fight in his brain. Why did this happen to him? It was like there was some kind of wet clay inside his mouth, stopping his words from forming. He knew what he wanted to say;

_This girl is ruining everything._

_I don’t understand what you see in her._

_What does she do better than me?_

_You haven’t been the same since she arrived._

_You don’t care about me like you used to._

 

But what came out was just stuttering, garbled half truths, and he was sick of it. Again, apparently Jace was talking to him, but something in him couldn’t decipher the words.

* * *

 

“Alec? Are you even listening to me?”

But Alec was just staring at his war-beaten hands, picking absentmindedly at his scabbed over fingers in that way he always did when he wanted to be Left Alone. Jace wasn’t even sure if Alec could hear him at these moments. It was like he just shut down, retreated into himself.

Frustrated, he clapped his brother lightly on the back, ignoring the usual way that he moved away from his hand, and left.

As he walked down the hall, he thought about Alec. Why did he do this? Jace knew the older boy hated talking about feelings, but sometimes it seemed like it wasn’t even a choice – that he was incapable. He sighed, leaning on the wall, rubbing the back of his neck, a trait he had picked up from his adoptive father. He couldn’t help but be concerned about Alec at these kind of moments. He thought back to he and Clary’s previous conversation about his parabatai. He didn’t like to entertain these thoughts, as he loved Alec, he _understood_ him – as much as anyone could understand Alec – but he did sometimes wonder if there was something, something deep inside his brother, that was different to Jace and Izzy, and everyone else. It wasn’t always apparent, especially as they had all matured into young adulthood, but often it was like there was a disconnect between Alec and the rest of the world, and that nothing could break through that impenetrable wall. Jace sighed, shaking these thoughts out his head. He had tried for so many years to break down that wall, and it seemed that nothing could do it. When Alec wanted someone shut out, that was that.

He officially stopped Worrying About Alec for the night, and carried on down the corridor, feeling a grin come to his face as he was invited into Clary’s bedroom.

* * *

 

Alec groaned as his jarring alarm went off, stopping it immediately. He continued to lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Another day of this… this exhaustion.

Alec shut his eyes, clenching his hands. Ever since _Clary_ had come into their lives, he couldn’t know what to expect from his days. Sometimes, he mused slightly dramatically, it felt like every moment of this new situation was just another disaster waiting to happen. Alec liked _order,_ liked knowing what was coming. Hunting demons. Going on missions. Keeping his siblings in check. Helping to train young shadowhunters. Giving commands… he knew his duties. He even liked them. Alec enjoyed being a leader, running _his_ institute with a sense of _order._ All this… this uncertainty, it was driving him crazy. He couldn’t tailor his reactions; he couldn’t be sure that _any_ move was the right one. He loved Jace, and he would trust him with the life of anyone he cared for… but he didn’t completely trust his judgment.

Grimacing, he got up and switched out his pyjamas for some of his least favourite, scratchiest work clothes. It was one of those days where he got so irritated with his sensitivities that he felt like just aggravating his skin, if even only to distract him from his thoughts.

As he came into the workroom, and Jace and Clary were making eyes at each other already, he tried to shut it out, focusing completely on the uncomfortable feeling of his sweater and heading to his office.

He was going to do as much paperwork today as he could, he had at least four incident reports to fill out and send off to the clave. And he wasn’t going to think about Jace and Clary.

This was an exercise that proved useful in distracting him, not least because of how much he _hated_ doing paperwork. There were certain aspects of this role that came with being acting head of the institute that Alec enjoyed – an excuse to be alone in the peaceful office, spend hours writing without interruptions… it was the content that was the worst part. Every moment Alec spent writing out the details of whatever mission he had unwillingly sanctioned, he both got annoyed that the act had happened in the first place, and itched to start sparring.

But it was something that had to be done. And it had to be done today.

It was his duty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2!  
> tw for ableism and dermatillomania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took slightly longer! I had some trouble with how much canon to follow, where to direct things... i decided that things will be vaguely canon compliant - to a point - with a lot of what happens in canon vaguely referenced but scenes will not be the actual word-for-word things that happen in the show if that makes sense.  
> thanks so much again for all the comments they mean so much and really spurred me on!!! they make all the difference when i am losing motivation :) :)  
> the next chapter will follow on from this point but i wanted to get this out as its been a good few days - so think of this as ch3 part 1 :)  
> hope you all enjoy!! xxx

_“Alec. Alec, look at me,” Robert asked his son for the third time. He was sitting cross legged opposite Alexander in the boy’s bedroom._

_Alec dragged his face back to his fathers, playing with the sleeve of his top, his face blank._

_For the last hour, Robert had been doing the exercises that the mundane had assigned them with his child. The parents were trying hard to make Alec more receptive to others’ emotion, to try and remove some of the blocks between the world of Alec and the world of everyone else. People were starting to notice how introverted the seven-year-old was. Luckily he already had a good aptitude for sport, spending hours running around, sparring, showing an early interest in target practice. Hodge could spend hours getting him to shoot arrows, which Alec managed to do with eerily precision, and a level of focus that was much more concentrated than his peers._

_Why couldn’t he bring the same level of attention to his social endeavors?_

_There were a few other young shadowhunters Alec’s age at the institute, and he hated playing with them. Although the other kids’ parents constantly told their children to include the eldest Lightwood, not wanting to cause any conflict with the heads of the institute, there was only so much patience the other children had for Alexander._

_So Robert was trying to make Alec meet them half way._

_“Pretend I’m Janey. I’m asking you to play-“_

_“You’re not Janey. You’re Dad. This is nonsense.”_

_Robert shut his eyes, trying not to revel in the fact that his son wouldn’t recognize the frustration on his face. They had been going round in circles like this for an hour._

_He remembered Dr. Wood – the mundane they secretly met with as often as they could with out being suspected – s’ advice, that Alexander had a hard time with imagination. That things needed to be literal. That there was no point in trying to make him think different._

_“You’re right. But if tomorrow, after training, Janey asked you to join in with a game of… of vamps and werewolves. What are you going to say?”_

_Alec looked back at his sleeve, tapping his foot slightly._

_“I don’t like that game. I don’t like pretending. I’m a shadowhunter,” Alec said, his flat voice barely over a whisper._

_After a few more instances of responses like this, Robert decided to give up for the afternoon. He could feel himself getting more and more frustrated by his son. It was like he wasn’t even trying._

_This was hopeless._

* * *

 

“That was absolutely hopeless,” Alec muttered as he barged through the doors of the institute in front of his brother and sister, once again after a failed mission to get intel on what the hell was going on with Valentine. They had gone to Pandemonium, and a few other downworlder hangouts, to try and get any information they could, while still keeping it friendly.

But Alec was distracted throughout the mission, and had barely even listened to the rogue vamps they had managed to chat with.

Once again, Alec found that he couldn’t stop thinking about Magnus Bane.

About the conversation they had had when, against his better judgment, he had stayed the night at the Warlock’s loft.

_You’ve unlocked something in me._

The phrase circled around Alec’s head. What did Magnus even mean? Why was he so intent on talking with the shadowhunter?

What could he possibly have ‘unlocked’ in a four-hundred-year-old high warlock?

He shook his head, trying to pay attention to what Izzy and Jace were saying. They were having their typical banter, and it was irritating him. Could they get to the point?

“… we need to focus on finding Jocelyn, Jace, this can wait. Right Alec?” He looked at her, totally at a loss to what had been exchanged. It had seemed like a jumble of words to him. He tried to respond.

“Yeah, I ... I agree with Izzy. We need to find Jocelyn. Jace, we don’t have time for this” he said, hoping he was making sense to the others.

Jace rolled his eyes at him.

“Oh, sure, Alec… are you even listening? You’ve been out of it all night.”

Alec shook his head, and walked away from the two of them. He couldn’t deal with their bickering, their intrusions at this moment.

He wanted to see Magnus. 

* * *

 

Taking a deep breath, Alec knocked on the warlock’s door, turning away and almost hoping he was denied entry. He didn’t know what was going on with him, and he almost hadn’t had autonomy in coming over to the Warlock’s house. He didn’t know what he was doing. Alec felt out of his depth, on edge – but he needed to be alone with Magnus. Try and figure out what all this … this noise in his head meant.

To his surprise, the doors, seemingly of their own accord, swung open and he was granted entry. 

He walked into Magnus’ luxurious hallway, seeing the man himself at his lounge area, with drink in hand – and now there was suddenly one in Alec’s hand too.

Magnus’ magic could be… unnerving.

“Well, Alexander, not that I don’t love this little surprise, can I ask what brings you here? Is it… business or pleasure?” Magnus asked, stepping towards Alec, his face changing. Alec couldn’t stop _staring_ at Magnus. He felt his face become a smile, almost against his will. What did this all _mean_.

“Um – p-leasure? I, I wanted to see you again,” Alec forced the words out of his mouth. If only he could just _not speak._ He just wanted to be here with Magnus. Have him talk at Alec in the way no one else seemed to.

Magnus smiled wider, though Alec was at a loss to why. He took a sip of the drink, knowing this was the social norm, automatically thanking Magnus for it, his mother’s voice in his head – _When you are given something, you thank the person. You accept graciously, even if you don’t want the object._ His mother had tried to define the difference between _objects_ and what she called _advances_. Apparently one must always be accepted, especially when a guest in someone’s house – but the latter was more nuanced.

Alec hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the whole concept of advances yet.

So he took a sip of the strange drink, this time an alarming swirl of pink and yellow – an assault to his senses – and his tastebuds, apparently. He screwed up his face, putting his drink down.

“This is horrible! Why did you give me this?” he asked, looking back at Magnus. He hated this charade, he didn’t enjoy these kinds of drinks. (Not that he had a huge amount of drinking experience at his repertoire. But he knew enough to know that cocktails weren’t for him.)

Magnus laughed loudly, which just further confused Alec. He shook his head, lightly putting the glass on one of the little tables.

“Can I sit down?” he asked, not exactly sure what this protocol was.

Magnus raised his eyebrows slightly, gesturing at the nearby couch, but when Alec didn’t move, he answered verbally.

“Of course, take… take a seat, Alexander,” he said, still with this smirk on his face that Alec couldn’t figure out.

Alec sat down, eyeing Magnus with trepidation when he sat next to him on the three seater couch – Alec noticed he was sitting on the crease of the middle and end seat, leaving a little room between them both, but not as much as if he had just sat on the other end of the couch. Magnus tucked one leg under himself, now holding Alec’s discarded cocktail and taking a large sip, but he didn’t seem to have the same reaction to the flavor Alec had.

Alec looked down at his hands, his back rigid, tapping his foot slightly.

“I don’t – I don’t know why I. I came. I wanted to be here,” he said quietly.

“Alexander? Can you look at me?” Magnus said. Why did people always have to ask him that?

He looked into the warlock’s eyes, but the words he started to say were lost on him – he just, stared into Magnus’ face. Alec remembered the last evening the two had shared being much the same, until they had to periodically deal with Luke and Clary. Alec just… getting lost in the warlocks’ face. His eyes, noticing the smudged makeup around them, a different style than he was used to seeing on Isabelle’s face – she was all about sharp lines, dark colours, nothing out of place. Magnus, however, seemed to favour a smudged look, as if he had been rubbing at his eyes. But it worked perfectly with his impossibly dark eyes. Alec knew they were a glamour, but they were a beautiful one at that. He had caught but a glimpse of Magnus’ true eyes, and wished he could see them again.

Surprisingly, when Alec pulled his attention down to Magnus’ mouth and his other senses caught up with him, he noticed the warlock had given up speaking to him with words. It was a relief to Alec, he did get tired of constantly trying to keep up with all the different levels of conversation – nuanced phrases were bad enough, but trying to keep up with body language, gestures… sometimes he felt more was able to be communicated from simply being quiet with each other.

Alec had a million thoughts going through his head, and he wished there was some way that Magnus could just… know what he was thinking.

_Why do you look at me like you do? What does it mean?_

_Do you feel about me how you feel about other nephilim?_

_What do you think of me?_

_Am I doing this wrong?_

_Could you possibly feel anything for me?_

He looked down and saw that he was picking at a scab that had started to knit together, which started bleeding a little bit. He licked it, hoping to make it stop bleeding so Magnus didn’t ask about it.

But Magnus had been observing the charade that was Alec Lightwood in silence, taking the shadowhunter in. Letting him _be._ He had watched Alec practically vibrate, his eyes darting around and his hands fidgeting, then bringing his forefinger to his mouth quickly. He watched his hands float back to his lap, his palm pressing on a small cut on the side of his tortured finger. Magnus couldn’t say this didn’t slightly intrigue but also concern him, but he let Alec get on with it.

He didn’t really know what to do with himself around this boy.

This was not a feeling Magnus was exactly familiar with, but something in him longed to understand what was going on with the eldest Lightwood of this new generation of nephilim.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of 2, in Magnus' loft!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaahhhhh im so sorry this took forever but exams etc etc   
> anyway im finally happy with how this second half turned out!! i hope it doesnt seem like things are moving too fast, and ive decided to just abandon canon lol.  
> Im not really used to writing these kinds of scenes i really hope it translates okay!!!!  
> hope you guys enjoy, comments are hugely appreciated :) :)

Alec tried to think of some way to spark a conversation with Magnus. Wracking his brains, he twisted around his hands, trying to calm his mind down, feeling overwhelmed by the presence of the warlock.

“Magnus – so, um, c-can I… spend some time here? I want – to get to… know you better.” He said, his voice sounding like it was booming in his mind while to Magnus it was almost imperceptible.

Magnus smiled, eyeing Alec, who was again not looking at him.

Magnus was starting to realize there was something different about the way that Alec’s mind worked. He had encountered people over his time who communicated in ways other than through speech, that had talents and interests different to most of humanity. He had plenty of time on his hands to let Alec – and maybe, possibly, _help_ Alec – to find his own way of relating to others.

“What would you like to know?” he asked simply.

Alec looked back at the warlock.

“How… how did you know? how I felt about. Jace?”

Magnus laughed audibly at this, and Alec smiled slightly at the sound, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Alec. You’re not the subtlest guy.”

“What do you mean, subtle? Like how?”

“Like… you look at him. You listen to Jace, you don’t insult him-”

At this, Alec looked affronted.

“Insult? Who do I insult?”

Magnus raised his eyebrows, letting out a puff of breath with a smile, but saying nothing.

Alec rolled his eyes. Magnus must be teasing, or mocking him.

“Jace g-gets to the point, and he usually has something better to say, that’s relevant to the mission. But you know that! You’re… joking with me, right?” he said, suddenly unsure of himself, of how to read this new friend’s mannerisms.

Magnus smiled wider, chortling again as his drink suddenly refilled.

“I guess I am. Would you like a drink? Not a cocktail, obviously, since that seems to not be to your taste. What do you like?”

“Yeah. I’d like one,” Alec said, smiling.

There was a pause between them, and Magnus had a strange look on his face, like he was waiting for something.

“So… what drink would you like, Alec?”

Alec put his head in his hands, realizing Magnus already asked him that.

_Stupid._

“Um –. C-Cider,” he said, his voice going quieter again. He jumped when a couple of bottles appeared on the table. He grabbed one, pulling the top off and taking a swig. It was a different brand, different flavour and was slightly more bubbly, than what he and Jace occasionally drank. It wasn’t _bad,_ Alec thought as he wrinkled his nose slightly, but he preferred the other drink. But it was similar enough not to be overly bothersome.

The two sat silently, but comfortably, Alec turning in his seat slightly more to face Magnus. He drank about half of the bottle, feeling the alcohol start to hit him slightly. He put it down on the table, drumming his fingers on his now crossed legs.

He glanced over at Magnus.

“So. What I feel, I guess, for Jace – I don’t know if. If I do.” He threw his head back, feeling the familiar feeling that he was wrestling with his mouth. “Because I don’t – see – how I can feel for you what I feel for him. What I feel for you is. is similar. But not.”

Magnus looked at him silently. After a pause, he spoke quietly, a twinkle in his eye.

“You can keep talking if you want to, Alec. I’m listening. I’m not in a rush.”

Alec nodded, taking another gulp of his drink and standing up suddenly, needing to move his limbs more. He wrung his hands slightly as he pulled his thoughts together, spinning to face the wall and then back to Magnus.

“It’s like. Jace. He’s my brother. But he’s _not._ Not like, like Izzy and Max are. He’s bonded with me forever, for life – and he gets me, probably more than anyone. And he’s beautiful. But. It’s different. With you-” Alec forced himself to look into Magnus’ face, focusing on the dark kohl under his left eye, and feeling his mouth stretch into a smile slightly.

“You listen to me too, but not like – Jace has learned how to listen to me. But you just _do_ it. I like that. I think… that I like you. It’s less complicated than with Jace. It feels. It feels _pure,_ ” he said, hoping he was getting this across. Magnus stood up too at this point, his face soft and open.

Alec shut his eyes, but stayed still, his hands wringing around each other.

“Magnus. I just – I want-”

Magnus took a slight step towards Alec, now close enough that he had to look up slightly to meet the shadowhunter’s gaze, now that his eyes were open again.

“You want…?”

Alec reached his hands out, paused them. Took a breath, and put one tentatively on Magnus’ shoulder, coming ever so slightly closer to him at the same time. It was a light touch, but the contact was sending sparks through Alec’s body. He could feel everything in him vibrating, and tried to keep the world around him still, not get overwhelmed.

He looked down at Magnus’ eyes, and actually looked _into_ them.

He saw swirling dark brown, almost black, with a sparkle in them. He saw, this close, that he could differentiate between the iris and the pure black pupils. The eyelids were soft, dark, smudgy, and he wanted to keep looking into them. He couldn’t hear.

All there was was Magnus’ face.

He felt his breath get shorter, and his other hand ghosted the back of Magnus’ neck.

Magnus was looking up at him, the two now mere centimetres from each other.

Alec worried his lip, glancing down at Magnus’ own lips. He breathed in and out through his nose, and leaned in, tilting his head slightly and bowing his neck, and his lips, after an _age,_ found contact with Magnus’.

The first kiss was short, and soft, and there were no fireworks, but when Alec leaned back, his face was in the biggest grin it had ever been in. His hand was snaking into the short part of Magnus’ hair, and Magnus was looking up at him, breathing out, smiling himself.

“Was that ok?” Alec whispered.

Magnus just nodded. Alec's fingers drummed softly on Magnus' shoulder.

“Can – can we – can you-”

And with that, Magnus leaned back in, capturing Alec’s mouth in his, and he put a hand on Alec’s waist, and Alec felt his mouth move against Magnus’, their noses pushing against one another, impossible to differentiate the sound of eachother’s breathing. Their lips pushed against eachother, moving above and below and above again. Alec felt a little noise come out of his mouth, pushing his lips against Magnus. Their mouths were sliding against eachother somehow in perfect sync. And _o_ _h, this was kissing. This was the fireworks._ His stomach was doing summersaults, his thoughts short circuiting.

Alec didn’t want it to end. He felt his hand pull Magnus’ face closer, felt Magnus tighten his light grip on Alec’s waist, the warlock’s other hand reaching into Alec’s own hair. Alec pulled back for a moment, and felt Magnus chase towards him. He looked down at Magnus for a moment.

And he dove right back in.

This kiss was louder, their breathing getting heavier and their mouths getting more urgent. Magnus sucked on Alec’s lips, and Alec did the same, their mouths parting as little as they possibly could. Alec felt something soft and wet press against his front teeth and _oh, so that was a tongue._ He opened his mouth slightly wider. He grinned into this new sensation, the world around him melting away, another noise involuntarily coming from his throat, vibrating into Magnus’. Everything felt so strong, he could feel and taste every part of Magnus’ mouth and Alec could do this _forever_. Alec sucked slightly on Magnus’ tongue, letting it in to explore the inside of Alec’s mouth, with his own tongue finding its way into Magnus’. He felt the foreign tongue with its unfamiliar taste and sensation slide over his teeth and Alec didn’t want his mouth to ever be just his own again. He wanted them to always be like this, for this connection to keep going, and he wanted them to be  _closer._

He stepped even closer to Magnus, and felt Magnus’ hand move from his waist to the small of his back, pulling their bodies together as their mouths kept moving against eachother, nothing in the world able to stop this kiss. Magnus’ hand pulled slightly on the hair at the base of Alec’s neck, smashing their noses against one another.

Alec stepped into Magnus’ body, and felt their chests and stomachs connect, and- and suddenly it was too much, too much contact, too much of _all of this,_ and he wanted it to stop but to _never stop_ and –

And Magnus slowly broke them apart.

Magnus’ face was flushed, he was panting, grinning, his eyes smudgy and bright. Alec took a movement back, not even a full step, but kept their hands on eachother, pressing his forehead against Magnus’ and breathing heavy. He shut his eyes, focusing on the contact between the two, feeling his heart pulse through his entire body.

“Wow,” Magnus whispered, with a breathy laugh. Alec nodded his head slightly, slowly moving his hands down Magnus’ arms, until they found the other’s hands. He linked their fingers together, his breathing still heavy, swinging their hands slightly.

“Do you want to sit on the floor?” Magnus asked, sensing the rigidity in Alec’s stance. Alec nodded, his voice escaping him. Not breaking his hold on Magnus’ hands, the two sunk to the floor, the both of them sitting with their legs in a basket, Alec touching his knee to Magnus’ leg. He focused on Magnus’ left hand now, taking it with both of his hands, holding and twisting his fingers over it.

Magnus had a soft, gentle smile on his face as he watched the shadowhunter play with his hand. Magnus hovered his now free hand over Alec’s knee, and when he didn’t move away he put it down on the knee, looking at Alec’s captivating face, which was looking down at Magnus’ hand intently.

“What are you thinking, Alexander?” he asked softly.

Alec looked at Magnus’ lips, a smile coming to his swollen, pink mouth that made the warlock’s breath hitch.

“Glad. I’m g… I’m just.,” he started, still breathless. He screwed up his eyes slightly, taking Magnus’ hand closer to his body, pulling at it and keeping the tight grasp, holding it like a lifeline. He looked into Magnus’ eyes, shining hazel meeting Magnus’ dark ones, his cheeks flushed and his teeth exposed in a real smile. He made another small noise, like he had when they had been kissing, one of contentment and _freedom_.

And Magnus understood.

 

 

 


End file.
